Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
She says her final statement with her characteristic certainty, the voice she uses when she gives one of the intern’s commands.
There’s something about her confidence that lets me cling to it, telling myself maybe it will all work out. Maybe I won’t disappoint him. Maybe I can live up to his expectations.
Or maybe it will all crash and burn.
Heck, there’s only one way to find out.
I swallow a big ball of nerves, my belly tightening.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’m going to have to tell him how I feel, aren’t I?”
She nods firmly. “Yes, you are. You have to. Otherwise, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
I sit back, nodding, as the truth of her words wash over me.
Chapter Twelve
Braden
I leave the set in a god-awful mood, the sort of mood that makes me want to smash up every passing car for no damn reason other than they’re there, making noise, distracting me from my obsession over Bria.
Reliving the moment she turned and walked away from me over and over again, yeah, it’s probably not the best idea. But I can’t help myself, not when a shard of regret stabs into me, taunting me, telling me I’m a fool for ever letting my true emotions out.
Life was easier when I didn’t have emotions, when I didn’t have to constantly worry about overstepping the mark, about making a fool of myself in front of the only woman I’ve ever cared about.
She turned and walked, just turned and walked away, leaving me there like a jackass.
I need to stop going over it as if that’s going to help, as if reliving the pain is going to make it any easier.
But what the hell was I thinking, blurting it all out like that?
I can’t believe I ever worried about her leaping at the chance to be with me for my money. I can’t believe that was my worry, that I didn’t stop to think about the overwhelming embarrassment that would grip me if I ever dared to put myself out there like that.
No, it’s not embarrassment.
More like heartbreak.
There is like a primal rebellion inside of me, every animal instinct I possess – and there’s a lot of them right now, surging through me – telling me to go and claim her even if she doesn’t feel the same. The beast inside of me howls at the notion that we can let her get away so easily.
The brutal alpha inside of me roars to grab her, bend her over, fuck her until her womb tells her mind to accept me as her mate, her forever man, the only person she’s ever going to be with.
My mind is spiraling dangerously, taunting me with images of Bria with other men, hugging close to them, laughing, aiming those shy-sassy eyes at them instead of me.
Pulsations move through me, grim and primal, possessive and jealous, telling me to go and find her right now and claim her over and over. Claim her until she’s creaming all over my cock, where she can’t even pretend not to feel the same.
Fuck.
Why didn’t I play the long game?
I let out a carnal growl of a sigh when I see her standing next to my car, her arms crossed over her middle.
She wouldn’t do that if she knew the effect it has on me, if she knew how downright feral and unhinged it makes me. It’s the way her forearms push against her breasts, the way they shift around her arms like she’s purposefully taunting me.
Biting down, I warn myself to be reserved, be civil.
I almost wish I didn’t feel this overwhelming need to possess her, to own every inch of her, each second, each moment, each breath.
But at the mere thought of letting go causes my insides to twist, my stomach to knot.
No – she’s mine, only mine, even if she doesn’t feel the same.
What a goddamn mess I’ve made.
“Hey,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of dark wavy hair from her face.
“Hi.”
My voice is rough. Maybe she thinks I’m angry, like when I was stalked across the set and purposefully avoided looking at her. Maybe she thinks she’s ignited something truly hateful inside of me.
But the truth is the exact opposite.
It’s my need for her that makes me terse. I have to hold back pieces of myself now, or the whole torrent of my possession will come tumbling out.
Grab her, shove her in the car, drive her someplace quiet and fuck her until she’s squeaking and moaning.
The voice is a snarl inside of me, a beast’s command.
Fuck her from behind, like a real animal. Make that juicy round ass bounce up and down as you ram into her.
“Can we talk?” she asks.
“We are talking,” I reply, harsher than I intended.
“I get that. But, I mean, not on the street?”
She’s playing a dangerous game if she wants me to invite her into my car, but there’s no way I can even think about turning down a chance to be alone with her.